


Distant Shores

by solitaryjo



Category: Hornblower (TV)
Genre: Angst, DKU, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Shifting Sands fic challenge, i don't even know if this is prose or poetry, iambic prose?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-14 01:59:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10526520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solitaryjo/pseuds/solitaryjo
Summary: On a beach in Kingston.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Shifting Sands challenge on [following-sea.livejournal.com](https://following-sea.livejournal.com)

The sun is setting now, its dying rays have turned the pure white sand to burnished gold and sketched a shining trail to the horizon, where the clouds bleed streaks of crimson into darkening skies.

Alone, I sit and watch the breaking waves creep ever closer to the words I wrote with shaking hands upon the shore. The name they want me to forget. The name dishonoured for the sake of duty and the ‘greater good.’

But I will not betray the man whose name holds memories of sacrifice and pain. Of loyalty and trust. Of golden smiles and sparkling eyes that made the world a better place and, over all, a love that they will never understand.

The heedless tide will soon begin to blur the lines, the letters fading as each surge retreats until no trace remains. The words will disappear and no-one will recall the body that lies rotting in an unmarked grave or celebrate the brave and joyful spirit that endured against all odds.

And though I'll not forget, I must not speak of sacrifice or loyalty or love. To do so would risk squandering the gift that was so freely given.

And so I ask the sea to take that name and cherish it and bear it forth to every corner of the earth.

Perhaps one day a stranger in a foreign land will pause awhile and listen to the rhythm of the waves and hear an echo of my breaking heart.

Perhaps a curious child will pluck a shell from distant shores and hold it to her ear and ask her mother why the ocean whispers, over and again,

“Archie.”

And you will be remembered, my dear friend, long after all is dust and naught remains of us but shifting sands.


End file.
